


Wizards Sleep With Their Eyes Open

by magickalmolly



Series: Twelve Days of Christmas [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 10:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9231263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magickalmolly/pseuds/magickalmolly
Summary: Dawn had not yet crested over the horizon, but Peregrin Took was awake, restlessly pacing back and forth across the balcony that overlooked the massive city below.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the second line of the "Twelve Days of Christmas" song "two turtle doves". 
> 
> Originally written December 27, 2004.

Dawn had not yet crested over the horizon, but Peregrin Took was awake, restlessly pacing back and forth across the balcony that overlooked the massive city below. There would be duties for him later; things to occupy his time –items to fetch and missives to run for the Steward, as well as anything else his new lord might bid him do. But for now, Pippin had no duties. 

There was nothing for him but to wait. 

In truth, Pippin knew he should be asleep. Should be resting from his encounter with the _palantir_. Should be resting from the long ride that had left him anxious and exhausted. Pippin knew he should be resting for the battle that still lay ahead. The final war. 

But for even as weary as he was, sleep would not come. So instead of tossing and turning in a bed that was much too large to be comfortable, Pippin chose to watch for the rising of the sun. He was hopeful that it would break through the clouds, which increasingly covered the Eastern landscape with their darkness. Like evil reaching forth its slow-unfurling claws.

Just a glimpse of sunlight was all he wanted. One sign of hope.

Slowing his steps, Pippin made his way closer to the edge of the carved ledge, though he dare not cast his eyes down. His hands gripped tightly at the stone. It was still unnerving to Pippin to be quite so high, even though Gandalf had insisted he was completely safe. That is, as long as he did nothing unwise. 

This was one time when Pippin was very sure he wouldn't even consider any foolishness. Not here, not now. His thoughtless actions had already gotten him into far too much trouble. 

Pippin tipped his head back, and he looked up to where the clouds faded into pre-dawn. He wondered to himself then if Merry looked out at the same sky. Could Merry see the growing darkness from where he must now be in Rohan? Pippin hoped not. He didn't like the idea that Merry might be as frightened as Pippin himself was.

But Merry was not alone. Strider would be with him, and Gimli and Legolas as well. And Pippin took comfort in that at least three members of the Fellowship still had a hobbit such as Merry with them. Merry would take care of them. They would take care of one another.

Pippin's thoughts shifted briefly to Frodo and Sam, alone now save for the other. They were traveling right into the darkness that crept over the lands. That is, if they still were... no. No, Pippin wouldn't dwell on that. 

Of course, Pippin was not alone, either. Gandalf was with him, had brought him here to the White City (without so much as a good bye to Merry or Strider or all the rest). But so much of his time these last few days had been spent in council with Lord Denethor, and the men of the city. They prepared for battle, for the Great War that would come to them, and Pippin had been left by himself. 

Even with Gandalf asleep in the chamber just behind him, Pippin felt very alone indeed. One mere Halfling in a city of Men.

"Tall ships and tall kings  
Three times three,  
What brought they from the foundered land  
Over the flowing sea?  
Seven stars and seven stones  
And one white tree."

It was a song Gandalf had sung on their way to Minas Tirith, the two of them racing over the countryside more swiftly than Pippin had ever traveled. A Rhyme of Lore, or so Gandalf had explained, about kings and seeing stones and the tree in the courtyard that did not blossom. Pippin sang it now in an effort to cheer himself, eyes still skyward. Still searching. But the lyrics only disheartened Pippin, and he did not sing again. 

The dawn had yet to show itself. Pippin was sure it must be that time by now, and a wave of grief overtook him. So strong was it that he laid his crossed arms over the pale stone, burying his face into them as he began to weep. He didn't want to be here. Didn't want to be a part of something that was so immense, so overwhelming to a young lad who wasn't even out of his 'tweens. 

I should be home, Pippin thought to himself miserably. He missed his family, and his own bed, and most of all he missed Merry. He missed how their lives had been before all of this. Somewhere, deep in his heart, Pippin knew that life for he and Merry (truly, for them _all_ ) would never be the same, and Pippin wept for their loss. 

It was the rhythmic sound of wings that pulled Pippin from his sorrow, and he raised his head at the noise. Blinking to clear his vision, he watched a bird land lightly on the edge of the stone railing. Snuffling only once, Pippin remained still after that, his head pillowed against his bent arm as the bird settle down next to him. It ruffled its snowy feathers, and it seemed to Pippin that it was looking right at him, cooing softly all the while. 

Pippin had never seen such a bird like this before. Birds back home were brown and gray and speckled, nothing so pale and fair could be found in the Shire. The sight fascinated him, and he forgot about his tears. 

"The very wildlife has matched itself to this mighty city," Pippin mused softly. 

The bird cocked its head, cooing again as if in agreement, and seeing it made Pippin laugh. It felt like the first time in forever. He risked reaching for the bird then, wanting to feel the downy feathers under his fingertips, and was granted his wish when the bird held still. 

Pippin's smile widened, as bright as a morning's sunrise.

Behind Pippin, tucked under his blankets and with his eyes closed, Gandalf smiled as well. 

~fin~


End file.
